


A story all the same

by loewen_grube



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, AU based on this song I've heard years ago, Comfort/Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loewen_grube/pseuds/loewen_grube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had seen lots of deaths, but this one replays endlessly and she wishes for it to stop. And unless she saves him, she will see it play on for the rest of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragon's teeth

**_I_ **

She opens her eyes, and the first thing she sees is Varric’s hand over Bianca.

Cassandra suddenly felt her back and complain as she tries to move, the rock she was resting on a lot more uneven that she imagined it to be. Later on, her arm followed, and she held onto it like dear life as she still felt blood on it. 

She felt like she hit her head on something, and she tries to go back to basics on her head as she runs through her memories —what she is, where she is, what happened. All she remembered was fighting Corypheus, and the bastard escaping after receiving the full brunt of Mithiin and Solas’s spells. The inquisitor predicted that it would take most of the day before he will recover and return to fight them, now that Morrigan had Corypheus’s pet dragon in her control. At least, that’s what it looks like. But they cannot go back to Skyhold, since they’re pretty much right on the temple’s ruins. 

She remembers a fight, and the wound, but apart from that, her mind is blurred down to a meaningless heap as the pain returns in her sword arm. Maker, she can’t even prop it up for her to get a good look. But when she ran her hand on it, she noticed that her greave and pauldron in her right arm have been removed, the sleeve pulled up, and a bandage was haphazardly strewn around it. First-aid, most likely, just to stop it for getting worse, because she could feel the gash spurting out blood and it hurts still. It’s not helping that the weather up here was terrifyingly unstable, and the discomfort with the weather and her position and the pain in her sword arm just made everything feel somehow hazy. With the Breach reopened and the sky a pitiful mess of clouds and Fade rocks and the sunlight, it did not help that the weather was so erratic on them. If it was a normal day in Haven with the snow and the pine trees, Cassandra would just pick up a handful of snow and slather it on the wound, half-hoping that it’d numb the pain, but there’s nothing like that here, so close to the sun with no way down, a mixture of cold winds and hot rays of sunlight.

Cassandra was about to rip it off for her to replace the bandage, because Maker knows how long have this thing been spitting out blood, and if there’s something she doesn’t want, it’s to die of blood loss, especially that she still has—

"Seeker?"

"Varric." She calls on his name, intending to sound somewhat grateful with his presence. She does not say anything else, and tries to prop the injured arm up, with much difficulty.

"Careful," he says. "We don’t want to hurt you further, unless that’s your thing." He unrolls the bandage, intending to fix her sloppy bandaging, and he pulls up her sleeve and mail to reveal the gash—

"Shit." He stands up, placing down her arm on her lap. "This looks a lot worse than a simple wound. I’ll call Wishes, seeker. She’s been rather great on her healing lately."

Cassandra says nothing except a nod, as she watches him leave and look for Mithiin in the area, which was relatively small, so in a few moments, Varric was there with an obviously exhausted Mithiin, with a salve, some bandages, and a sewing kit on hand. She quickly sat down and cleaned the gash with practiced ease with the salve — seemed like some combination of mint and elfroot, from the smell — before she broke out the needle and thread, soaked it in the medicinal rum of sorts, knotted the ends and held the gash close.

"This may hurt." The elf turned to Varric, hands still on the gash and the needle. "Hold her down, just in case."

"Where?" He sounded incredulous. 

"Hand’s preferable." Mithiin soaks the needle again for extra measure, without batting an eyelash. "Keeps her from ripping it off while I work."

"I’ve had much worse, Mithiin." Cassandra tries to move, but the pain stopped her, and Mithiin took the cue to hold onto the arm gash a little more securely. Still, the seeker persisted. 

She merely shrugs, and adjusts her hold on the gash. She nods to Varric, and he holds onto Cassandra as if on cue, and she calms down as she finally notices the needle, curved and dripping in medicine. The seeker didn’t even feel the first jab of the needle as Mithiin worked. She’s always known her, but Cassandra never thought Mithiin actually had the stomach for such things, or that she could actually hold back and be calm through everything. And she was surprisingly calm and collected through the battle earlier.

But Varric looks at Lavellan like he knew the exact words she was going to say, and was silent through the entire process. Mithiin worked fast and precise, and after a minute or two, she’s knotted the thread and had already smothered another layer of salve on it. The elf hands Cassandra the salve, before going back to the wound. Her hand glows and she channeled her magic on the gash, closing it somehow.

"Just have this on when it hurts or opens again. My healing is rather bad at this point sadly, so I’m not certain that it will hold long." Without another word, Mithiin stood up and left, obviously having to treat the rest of the circle, whom as Cassandra remembers, probably had worse wounds that she did. But Mithiin’s disposition still rather worried her. 

Cassandra notices only seconds later that Varric hasn’t let go of her hand just yet.

"Are you well, seeker?" Obviously, he did not mean for it to be romantic of any sort, but rather a somewhat comforting move. She appreciates it as it is, even though it was from Varric, and holds it with the same amount of concern.

"Yes." Cassandra forces a melancholic smile for him, just enough to show that she’s fine, she’s not going to die just because of an arm gash. "Though I should be worried about you. I’ve been treated, but I don’t see the same with your wounds."

"Compared to you, I was not slammed down by a darkspawm magister." He gestures to his head bandage, which is gladly not as blood-soaked as hers was before Mithiin treated it. "I’ve been through worse. Don’t sweat it."

They were silent for a while, just their hands linked and the chaos somehow going around them yet not loud enough to reach them. Cassandra looks down, right on their hand link, unsure if she should break it. She felt his hand stiffen, but he does not let go. She does not, either. Cassandra has learned to speak without words, and this was more than enough. Injuries can be healed, but this was something else entirely that she needed Varric for.

"Is something the matter, seeker?" Varric asks. 

She was silent. She’d stayed like that for a few moments, not responding, and she gripped his hand tighter before she finally speaks.

"Do you think that we’d make it?"

Silence.

He still gripped on her hand, as if she was still being treated, absently patting on her hands in thought. It took him a few moments before he was able to respond. “Did you read that Swords and Shields volume I gave you last week?”

"Yes." She wanted to ask why he is changing the topic, but she decided not to pry. "What about it?"

"And you know of the stuff she had to face? Bad mages, revolutions, practically the world ending? We face that everyday."

"And…?"

"If a fictional character who’s faced with almost the same things manages to go and win it with just two of them, I’m pretty sure we can live through this with the ten of us." He takes a moment before he brings her hand to his lips. Still, she felt distraught, and her lips draw a thin line in thought.

"If we do live, what after?" She grasps both of his hands with both of hers, uncharacteristically scared. Panicked, even. "We have unfinished business to attend to."

Varric merely smiles back, but not until Cassandra cries out, the wound hurting once more. Mithiin’s salve did quite the job to ease it somehow, to ease the pain, and Varric went closer and tried to fix it, drawing the clean bandages and wrapping them again around the closed gash, just in case it opens up again. Cassandra felt like crying — in all the times, it had to be now, and she held it back like poison she did not want to swallow or spit out — and in the end, she attempts to wipe away a few stray tears.

He says nothing. After he was done fixing the bandages, he comes closer, and just wipes the tears away from her face without a word. She doesn’t look up to meet his gaze, feeling a mix of embarrassment and regret sinking down her gut. 

"Look at you. A few months back, I’d be surprised to see you like this."  
"Maybe if I did not come to you, you would be."

"Everything will be all right, Seeker." He kisses her forehead, and she felt her heart flutter like blooming roses, though the pain from her arm still sours her. "You’ve kicked so many asses before. This isn’t any different."

"You sound certain." He did, Cassandra knew. 

"I am!" He laughs, and carefully massages her hand while he racks his mind for memories to share and stories to tell, to distract her a little. "Heck, you’ve lived past that horde of bears back at the Hinterlands, and I do feel Corypheus is like an army of bears to come for—"

A screech stopped Varric’s speech, and they all turned to the source of the noise.

It’s a dragon.

_A fucking dragon._

Corypheus’s dragon, specifically. It had Morrigan on its jaws, and it unceremoniously drops her to the ground like a rag doll he got tired with. Mithiin was quick to react and conjured a bubble of magic to catch the witch. Afterwards, it was evident that she’s gotten so tired of all this shit that she drew her spirit blade and charged.

That was signal enough for all of them. There were some of them who just bolted upright and attacked like they weren’t resting before the dragon arrived. Some, though — like Cassandra, who was somewhat injured — had difficulty even drawing her sword.

Varric grabs BIanca, and glances back to Cassandra as he draws his coat closer to himself. “I don’t know if you want to fight with a bad arm, seeker, but this dragon is mine!”

"Bullshit!" Though injured, she managed to slap on her greave, and was only a few steps away from her shield and sword. Just moving her arm hurts, but she’s had worse. She laughs out at the prospect. "You, killing a dragon?"

"Oh, come on! You’re from a dragon slayer line, sure, but give away kills once in a while!" He loads Bianca and did a test shot in the dragon’s direction. It just bounced off and did nothing but piss the little shit, who now comes stomping madly to his direction. 

Fuck. 

Varric ran away as he can, doing useless shots to divert the mad beast’s attention away from the lot of them who took most of the brunt from Corypheus earlier — Cassandra included. The dragon followed, and the dwarf later on saw Bull and co. chase after them as he finally slammed his hunk of metal on the back knee of the beast. It screams and shrieks and started trashing around, and Vivienne and Dorian took it as an opportunity to rain down fireballs and all sorts of mad spells they could think of.

Later on, Solas had the good mind to freeze the beast while they work their way through them, and Varric took it as a chance to pinpoint the dragon’s eyes and it complained madly. Later on it gained its movement back and he made sure to chase after Varric first. And he just ran out of bolts. 

Obviously, Cassandra knows Varric’s fighting style — he’s out of bolts now and he resorts to his traps while he goes back to his corner to grab the extra quiver. She sees this and she runs to his direction to cover him while he sets his traps up. It was going well for the first few moments — Varric was able to set up the basic claw traps and have already gotten hold of his extra quivers, and was loading Bianca like a madman while running to avoid the dragon’s wrath.

Blackwall and Bull was doing a great job of distracting the dragon, while Mithiin had got out her spirit blade full-force and was working on making it limp by striking the leg and scaling off its defenses. Varric has himself perched up in a corner while Cass covered him by blocking the dragon’s view at the slightest.  
Suddenly, the dragon just stomped past the warrior group, and went after the dwarf, who was cornered in his spot, assumed that the dragon couldn’t find him there. Having nowhere to go, he tried to run past the dragon. Cassandra tried to go between them, maybe try to block his jaw, slam the dragon around, maybe—

The dragon took Varric by the mouth, waved him around, and threw him like a rag doll to a nearby rock. The dragon picks up Bianca and throws the crossbow off to the same direction. And the dragon makes doubly sure that he’s done with, slamming his head against the dwarf until he heard nothing but his own trashing—

_— this is real._

She heard a scream, and it went on. Was it Varric? Or the Inquisitor? Or someone else, maybe? She gasps for breath and realizes that it was her, and she runs towards Varric’s direction, deeming the dragon unimportant, seeing red all over her vision and feeling her head pounding against her skull — _oh Maker, is it me is it me, it can’t be him, it isn’t, please save him, this couldn’t happen—_

— and the thoughts stop when Cassandra sees him smashed against the rock, arms in weird angles, Bianca lodged against his throat and his head bleeding as his lifeless arms still wrapped around the grip like it was the non-existent life he now had —  _this is not real this is not real this can’t be real, please Maker make this a bad dream—_  There’s the bit of the flesh spilling out his tunic, and she cries, and she chokes in her own tears, but she doesn’t see the tears fog up her vision in the slightest as she looks back at the dragon, gritting her teeth, charging like a madman as she holds up her shield and charges with her sword, bearing through the pain—

And she remembers the words he’s told him, how it is impossible for any of them to die for they work together and they’re better than Corypheus and his lackeys because of this—

_You’re a good liar and I hate you. This is all real and it’s your damned fault for believing you, that this is real, all real—_


	2. Lyrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bOFhatyCEhQ) while writing this. Thought it might help set the mood?

**_II_ **

— she sees Varric's hand on Bianca again as she jolted awake.

Cassandra felt the pain surge through her nerves as she attempted to stand up, failing as she falls down as she attempts to prop herself up with her injured arm. She tries once again to stand up, feeling her legs go numb and her head spinning, even though the pain from her arm distracted her still. Cassandra held onto it, feeling the blood that won't stop spilling out between her fingers, hoping that maybe it will stop at some point if she held onto it hard and long enough.

She remembered what Mithiin did in the dream, but with no needle and thread in hand, she ends up just ripping off her sleeve and clutching it directly, the pressure somewhat relaxing her a little, which helps since her thoughts are rather jumbled. What happened? Was that a dream? A vision? Cassandra still felt the mixture of pain and regret weighing her chest, but seeing Varric actually alive, breathing, and flashing his shit-eating grin left and right...

Why doesn't she feel relieved to see him alive? Is something going to—

"Seeker?" Varric comes near, in the same tone of voice she remembered him using in her dream, breaking her thoughts and worries. But this time, she did not reply as she struggled to keep herself up. But Varric doesn't want her to persist, and lays a hand on her waist, imploring her to sit down at the very least, to fix her wound.

"Seeker, let's fix your wound, okay?" He had to rip off the hand over her wound before she just nods in submission. "After that, you can traipse around all you want as long as Corypheus isn't bearing down on us."

"I merely wanted to feel my legs," she says, but she lets him inspect the gash, anyway, as she returns to her seat earlier. After he's wiped off most of the blood on the wound as soon as she got settled, he just looks at it as if he didn't know much on what to do.

"Shit." He stands up, placing down her arm on her lap, in the same manner she remembered him doing. "This looks a lot worse than a simple wound. I'll call Wishes, seeker. She's been rather great on her healing late—"

Before he was able to leave, she grabs on his sleeve. "Please stay." She did not look at him, but Varric knew what it meant, and words were not needed for that. Varric looks at her, worried about to say something about her wound, but not before Cassandra speaks again. "It's not that bad. All it needs is some sewing."

He raises an eyebrow, as if not expecting to hear it. Her grip on his sleeve tightens. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She looks up and grins. "You can sew, right?"

He nods, though he looked uncertain. "The only thing I've sewn in my life are my own breeches, but that will work, I guess. I think I got some needle and thread here, let's see..." Cassandra tried not to laugh as he sits down and pulls out a small sewing kit, enough to fit in the inside pocket of his coat, and proceeded on threading everything together. She did not know why he even had a sewing kit with him, but she did not ask.

At least, even though almost everything in her dream seems to be repeating oddly, she was glad Varric's wit and humor still stayed. That's one thing she's happy to keep.

He was neither healer nor tailor, so he struggled as he tried to sew Cassandra's wound together. It hurts more than Mithiin's work and she had to grit her teeth through it, but if it meant a few more moments to be able to talk to him, she's more than happy to bear ever prick. Later on, he's shed his gloves to attempt to have a better grip, and she felt oddly satisfied with his fingers on her arm and the silence that follows.

After Varric had a few stitches on, Cassandra tried to break the silence. The dream still troubled her greatly, and even though she was not too keen on dreams and their meanings, it's better safe than sorry.

"It's strange," she murmurs.

"Strange to be on top of a flying temple while fighting an ancient darkspawn magister?"  He was midway through the gash — which took longer since it was evident that Varric has never sewn skin together before — but Cassandra did not mind. "Everything happening to Wishes is strange."

"No, not that." She smiles, and even though it's evident that it's forced, Varric wasn't looking up to her to see it. "I saw..." She looks down as Varric tends to the wound, in the exact same manner he tended to her bandages last time. "A dream came to me. I saw ourselves in this same situation, and you said the exact same things to me, and..." she trails off, not wanting to add _'and you died'_ to the end of the sentence, fearing that heavy weight on her chest would return.

He was silent for a few moments before he responded, trying to piece it all together. "Scared?"

"Somehow, yes." Her face distorts to pain as Varric missed and pricked something wrong, and the dwarf muttered a soft apology. "It felt too real. I still remember almost everything you did. Dreams do not stay that long."

"What did I do?" He threads in another stitch, making sure he's not hurting Cassandra way too much. "What happened?"

"You..." she swallows, and trails off, unsure how to begin, but Varric did not persist, knowing what her hesitation meant, and was silent as he finishes the stitches. He took his time making sure that it was all well and secure, because unlike Mithiin, he wasn't a healer, and he does not have the Inquisitor's resolve and heart of steel to assure Cassandra that no, he's not dying anytime soon.

The silence lingered for some time before he finally breaks the silence. "You think it will happen?"

It was Cassandra's turn to be silent. She rubs the gash — still painful, but the bleeding has reduced — out of words to say and means to find them. She just grabs on the bandage she has dropped earlier and clumsily wrapped it around the gash, and Varric helps her to make sure it actually covered the wound.

She later answers with another question.

"Do you think it would?"

"Maybe. Any of us could die today." He smiles, but it was more for himself than her. He pulls off her hand from the wound — both to keep her from ripping off the stitches and to reassure her. It was not much, and Cassandra still refuses to look him in the eye, but he's still trying.

"I still remember it, like it actually happened." She pauses, as she tries not to break down, and was successful on keeping a straight face as the image slowly clears in her head, and she closes her eyes as if trying to block it out. "You were there. Bianca was lodged on you." She swallows. "And I remember you smiling despite it all."

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about the dreaming world and the Fade and all that shit, since we dwarves don't dream, but..." He pauses, before he nervously laughs out. "Shit. Seeker. You know I'm not good at these things. But I can try to live through this. No promises. We don't really know what Corypheus has in hi—"

"That's not enough." She looks up at him, mad, desperate, pleading — she wasn't sure what she wanted to get across. She grips on his palm like it's dear life. "Promise it, that you'll live. Swear it."

He sighs. "Okay. I swear it."

" _That's not enough_." She repeats, gritting her teeth before she felt the pressure through her jaw, and she suddenly felt the pain on her tongue as she realizes that she was biting down on it. Varric sighs again, but after a few moments, he looks to her.

"I swear it on you. I promise it. And sure as hell that I won't be seeing anything as odd as the Maker's bosom today." He pauses, before he squeezes Cassandra's hand, as if to get her attention. "Okay? Is that enough for you?"

Cassandra didn't say anything, instead looking down again with a melancholic smile, only partly satisfied. She knew that promises won't do anything on the events of the day, but she can only hope, right? That maybe it will change at some point? That they could live through the day, both of them?

Varric smiles sadly to her, and she does the same, as forced as smiles can go. "Thank you," she says finally. She was not sure if she believed him, but it was better than enough.

"Why are you scared over it? I never knew dreams and visions in the Fade scared you."

That was one thing that wondered her, honestly. As far as dreams and visions go, nothing has scared her more than this. She was sure that it wasn't because Varric's death seems like a written rule now, but something else a lot more strange—

"I'm not afraid of the dream," she says, standing up and picking up her pauldron and greaves. She looks at the little hearts that border the rim of the pauldron before she fastens the clasps on her plate. "I'm afraid of myself. Of Corypheus, of what will happen. Sometimes I cannot predict even myself."

"Either way, I'll write them the same." He grins to her. "You come and climb on the dragon, and you kill it with that knife you used to kill that high dragon back in that ten-year gathering back at Orlais—"

The dragon's roar came before Cassandra knew it, and Morrigan was unconscious once more on a heap on the ground, bleeding and battered and with no energy left on her to fight. As quickly as the dragon had come, Mithiin was quick on attacking, and her spirit blade was drawn and already charging with gritted teeth. Cassandra ran to her shield, and Varric took her sword and threw it to the seeker's direction.

"Please, stay back." She sounded like she was pleading, catching the sword and just throwing the sheathe aside. "It may just be a dream, but this time, this is all real. There is no waking up from this once you die."

"You're not losing me anytime soon, Seeker!" He grins as he picks up and loads Bianca, taking Cassandra's tip to bring all his spare bolts with him. "We still have stories to tell!"

"How about your happy ending?" ske asks. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Happy _ending_?" He laughs. "Now that I think about it, why does it ever _have_ to end?"

He's stormed off before she was able to reply, and she merely smiles to herself as she catches up and made doubly sure that he was always behind her at all times.

The battle was as she remembers it — Bull and Blackwall doing their best to distract the enemy, Solas and Vivienne raining down spells, Mithiin being uncharacteristically aggressive and trying her best to get a good strike on the dragon with her spirit blade. It was as she remembers it, except that Varric was not exactly trying to distract the dragon, so it's just going around trying to stomp the first person it sees. Cassandra goes around and tries to find a blind spot she could charge in, but no such luck. She ends up doing Varric's role of protecting the others who haven't recovered yet. Sera was still struggling over her vials of grenades whie in pain on a chest wound, while Dorian's shoulder look dislocated but he just tries to shrug it off as he picks up his staff. Solas later returns beside him, trying to fix his shoulder, but Dorian was struggling too much to do any progress.

After a few moments, Sera has recovered and has an armful of jars ready for throwing. Of course, she throws the one filled with bees and wasps first, and it lands straight on the dragon's head. She started laughing obnoxiously as she throws the rest — a mixture of frost and flame grenades and some other volatile things Cassandra couldn't name — and Sera seems to have gotten the desired effect because the dragon stops in its tracks as it tries to make out things past the swarm of insects.

The elf rogue notches an arrow, and draws the bowstring with a wicked smile on her face. "Take _this_ , ape-shit piss-ass lyrium freak!" She releases the arrow and it went flying straight to the dragon's eye.

In panic of its sudden loss of sight and the pain in an obviously weak spot, the breath of fire the dragon was intending to blast at them went all spiraling around. Everyone tried to take their cue from the dragon's sudden moment of vulnerability, before the fire materialized to an odd cloud and started raining down sharp shards and chunks of red lyrium on them. Cassandra raised her shield to block the onslaught of red lyrium shards everywhere, and she runs back and tried to pull away Sera from the rain, but one shard hit her straight in the eye and another landed on her shoulder.

"Solas! Get Dorian out of there! The opposite corner's safe!" Cassandra pulls Sera close, who was trashing around and screaming all the obsenities she could think of as she tries to rip off the shards.

"Sera! Sera, it's me, Cassandra." She places the elf rogue's arm on her shoulders. "I'll bring you to Solas, okay? He and Mithiin can get those off."

"Stop yapping and bring me to that elfy bastard already!" Sera started screaming and kicking some more, as if it was her way of saying that she'd go there herself if she could, and Cassandra started walking as fast legs could allow to Solas's place.

They were halfway there when Sera tries to take the seeker's attention. "Hey, Cassie lady." Sera has pulled out the shard off her eye and is rubbing her eye in a terrible attempt to get the other particles out, and was saying, "Ain't that your dwarf lover crouched down there or it's just me? I can ride on your back and you can run to him, you can do that, yeah?"

She turns to the direction Sera was pointing to, and sure enough, there was Varric, lying sideways on the ground, with something glowing lodged on his chest. He was bleeding, and his chest is not even moving to breathe. Adrenaline seems to suddenly surge in her veins, and was about to rush to his direction, but Mithiin suddenly came out of nowhere in front of her, and pulled both Cassandra and Sera to the opposite direction. The seeker was about to struggle, but not before Mithiin have waved her staff and a barrier came between them and a firestorm that Cassandra did not notice was coming.

"Cassandra!" She pulls the seeker away from the dragon, and slings Sera to her own shoulder. " _Focus_! What in the Creator is going on?"

"Mithiin, I—" Another firestorm came, but this time, it was Solas's work, and was directed towards the dragon. Mithiin waved her staff upwards to create a barrier and motioned Cassandra to stay close to her to get across to Solas's corner.

"Cole rounded up those ones hit with the red lyrium, so don't worry about them, we'll do something about it." She shakes the seeker, making sure she got her attention. "Come with me!"

They quickly sprinted to the corner — as much as they could manage with a wounded Sera, at least — and Cole comes to them with a wounded Varric in his thin arms, half-dragging half-carrying him. Cassandra was not able to look at him clearly earlier, but now she's gotten a clear view, she felt her heart sinking in her chest — there's a huge chunk of red lyrium stuck on his chest, and one embedded on his neck.

Oh, Maker, _no._

"He's hurting, and I can't make it stop," Cole mutters, obviously wanting to do something, but could not. "His mind is screaming for it to stop, the lyrium is getting in his mind, it's bleeding in him, it's killing him, and he screams for you amindst the chaos."

Mithiin quickly puts Sera down as carefully as she could, and motions to Cole to put Varric down. She takes off her gauntlet and the mark on her hand glows, and she channels magic to her hands before she grabs the red lyrium with her bare fingers and rips the chunk off, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from Varric.

"Mithiin, are you sure you should be handling that direct—" Solas tries to stop her on digging out the other shard, but she shoots a sharp glance to his direction."To hell with the effects," she mutters angrily, busying herself as she yanks out the other piece on Varric's neck. Later, she hands Cassandra a pair of tweezers. "Cass, help me. There's shards still in it. Yank them ou—"

"Seeker."

It was Varric. Thank the Maker, he's still alive. Cassandra felt herself relax as she stepped closer, and clasped his fingers with one hand as she tries to follow Mithiin's instructions with the tweezers in the other. Varric's fingers were warm still, but she could feel the red lyrium beating through it, and Mithiin was slowly working on extracting the lyrium out with as much magic as she could. "Seeker," he repeats again, and he squeezes back on Cassandra's fingers.

A few moments pass as Mithiin and Cassandra try to extract all the lyrium she could, but Cole breaks the silence from behind Cassandra, daggers drawn and eyes glowing red from the lyrium as he looks out to the others who are still fighting.

"He's gone," Cole mutters.

"No, he's not." Cassandra grips his hands, now cold.

"He's gone," Cole repeats. "I want to make the hurt stop, but I could not, because I am also hurt, it is—"

"I can still do _something_!" This time, it was Mithiin who screams out, and she desperately tried to sew together the wounds, heal them with magic, but the only thing that she could feel her fingers are the dampness of her tears and not the dwarf's heartbeat. She only stopped once Solas's hands grabbed hers — he shook his head to her and she just broke down. "No one's dying, _no one's dying_! Not any single one of you! Not while I can still do _something!_ "

And Cassandra merely repeats Varric's words, and clutches his fingers close to her chest.

_Why does it ever have to end?_

The sounds of the dragon's roars and everyone's battle cries seems to fill the hollow spaces building up inside her, confusion and the familiar taste of pain weighing her down. Her mind started going through the Chant of Light that she had memorized by heart, his hand between her palms, as if she would find an answer, a miracle, a solution — _anything_ to tell her that this is a dream once again.

She had seen him die once. Or twice? Or was it three times? She was sure it was not real. She was sure. She woke up from that, it was merely a dream. She woke up. It was a dream. She still feel the pain of the wound on her arm. It's _real_.

The dense air around her seems to be mocking her stupidity as she felt her heart heave and weigh heavier than her shield. She clutches his fingers tighter. She kisses them, hoping the warmth will bloom again. Nothing. She prays silently, hopes, maybe she could still try to pull out whatever red lyrium has seeped into him. Maybe she could still—

 _"It was worth it, seeker, it was you or me,"_ Cole mutters, somewhat announcing Varric's thoughts loudly. He was shaking, his eyes glowing red, scared, yet still had his daggers between his fingers as he braced for the dragon marching their way. Sera joins him later on, with a crude eye patch on her bad eye, as she notches an arrow. The dragon comes, finds them, and the roar shook the ground and their hearts. _"You write our story, seeker, you tell them how it ended, how it repeated, you tell them how far I've made it, and you write yourself a hero, because that's what you are, and you will always be the hero I had loved for so long—"_

The last thing she saw was Varric's bloodied grin. This time, Cassandra couldn't smile back, the only thing in her mind being the end.


End file.
